


sleep on the ocean, sleep on the sand

by SputnikCentury



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, At Worlds's End Epilogue Ignored, Background Nie HuaiSang - Freeform, Crossover, Historically Inaccurate Singapore, M/M, Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo Lives, Pirate King Elizabeth Swann, Pirates, frankencanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SputnikCentury/pseuds/SputnikCentury
Summary: “What brought you and your partner to Singapore?”“What brings anyone?” he asks, and then gives her a morsel more: “Hope for a quiet life.”
Relationships: Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén/Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo
Comments: 42
Kudos: 103





	sleep on the ocean, sleep on the sand

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that widespread potato cultivation in China and the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy both date to approximately the 1730s?

1.

They do not go to Dongying.

Jin Guangyao’s grand plans lay shattered in the temple, all his schemes exposed. If they go to Dongying, surely Nie Huaisang will follow, and they’ll be caught before they’ve made it very far at all. 

North is not an option. The Nie sect of Qinghe has longstanding connections with the nomads who rule the steppes; Nie Mingjue’s mother was one of their eagle-eyed witches, and the pair of them are distinctive - Nie Huaisang need only put out a call to find two noble cultivators, one tall and narrow and the other short and missing an arm, and his distant relatives will do the rest. And even if they were to make it past the rider tribes, on the other side of their territory lies only the near-neverending boreal forest, and beyond that, the frozen wastes that ring the top of the world.

West is a desert, impassable since the collapse of a distant empire put a stop to trade along the Silk Road.

To the southwest, the land rises, as inhospitable as the frozen north. Beyond the mountains lie rainforests and river valleys where two young men could easily disappear— But it is foolish to think they would even make it that far, separated as they are by impossible heights.

No, the only plausible route is to the southeast, across the warring ordinary kingdoms of the peninsula until they reach a place where the name _Nie Huaisang_ carries no coin and where their own names go equally unrecognized.

There, they begin anew.

2.

Singapore is a crossroads of the world, a city of docks and gangways and ships coming and going, bound for ports unknown.

Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen take false names and new clothes, rent a storefront on the waterfront. They keep their heads low, trading in antiquities and appraising artifacts. There is money to be made connecting oddities from distant shores with interested buyers, in detecting curses and magical traits, breaking old spells and casting new ones.

_A tea set which never goes cold._

_A flute which never plays a false note._

_A compass which points to your heart’s desire._

Their new lives come with a tenuous sense of safety, a fragile security. But everyone passing through says the same, and when said enough it must be true - Singapore is a good place to go when you want to disappear. 

(But also, and Jin Guangyao tries not to think of this - Everything in the world has a way of making its way to Singapore.)

3.

_“What do you know about that shop on the waterfront with the one-armed proprietor?”_

_“They trade in antiquities and oddities.”_

_“Of the magical sort?”_

_“That’s what word is on the docks, yes.”_

_“They’re not sailors, are they? Where are they from?”_

_“Well north of here, Majesty, if the tongue they speak between themselves is any indication.”_

4.

When she first enters the shop, the woman does not say anything. Jin Guangyao watches her warily from behind the counter, listens for the hollow _tock_ of her heels against the floorboards as she slowly surveys each of the glass-topped cases. He sees the shadow of a man outside the door, hears the slosh of the tide against the pier—

The woman is yellow-haired and suntanned, tall in general and taller still in her boots. She wears what looks to be a man’s coat tailored to fit her, black and embroidered with silver and fastened with a series of heavy metal clasps, the fabric salt-stiff. A sword hangs at her hip, a one-handed jian, though Jin Guangyao has rarely seen women go armed here. 

At last, she makes her way over to him, and from her sleeve draws a golden spyglass which she sets on the counter between them. “Can you repair this?” she asks, in that flat European language that’s common around the port. Jin Guangyao’s made study of it out of necessity.

He picks the spyglass up, lifts it to his eye, but nothing seems amiss about the view. He turns it over in his hand and sees a glimmer of power about it, reaches through his core and tries to understand what it was, once, and then translates that understanding. “It sees the unseeable.” 

“Yes,” she confirms, “but it’s stopped working.”

Well, obviously, thinks Jin Guangyao, or she wouldn’t be here. He doubts the spell is one he’s familiar with - there are many modes of magic all overlapping in Singapore, and cultivation is one of the rarer ones - but he’s always been a quick study. Once, he made sense of Wei Wuxian’s notes; a hedge spell should be quick work. Still, he says, “Return in a few days.”

The woman departs, taking the man outside the door with her.

5.

“We had an interesting customer today, er-ge.” 

They share a set of rooms above the shop, hardly the luxury either one of them grew accustomed to in their prior lives but hardly squalor, either. Lan Xichen has an eye for quality, and Jin Guangyao has an eye for bargains, and together they have furnished a tidy life for themselves. 

Lan Xichen looks up from tending the hearth. “Have we been discovered?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Jin Guangyao kneels at the table, sets the spyglass upon it. He draws a simple analysis array, considers the readout that appears in the air, then scoffs. Of course the original enchantment failed. It was clumsy to begin with. He can do better. “A woman, dressed like a pirate.”

He indicates the spyglass where it floats. “She gave me this to repair.” 

Lan Xichen makes a thoughtful noise. “Tall, with yellow hair?” he asks. “Accompanied by a man with one bad eye?” 

“I didn’t see her companion. He stayed outside. The description fits, though. Why? Do you know something?”

Lan Xichen hums. “We may have attracted a very powerful benefactor.”

6.

The woman returns as promised. She is pleased with the work, pays in gold, and at last introduces herself as _Captain Swann_. Jin Guangyao gives the name that is not his in return, and she inquires after where he learned his craft. 

“Oh, far from here,” he replies evasively. “A landlocked country.”

“What brought you and your partner to Singapore?”

“What brings anyone?” he asks, and then gives her a morsel more: “Hope for a quiet life.” 

Her companion - a man with one bad eye, as Lan Xichen described - snorts. Captain Swann gives him a warning glance. “Tai Huang…” 

“Pardon, Majesty,” he replies. 

Captain Swann turns back to Jin Guangyao, pulling a necklace from a pouch on her belt. Resentful energy swirls around the jade pendant as she lowers it onto the countertop, flowing in and out of the carved contours of its surface like seawater around a jetty. “It’s cursed,” she says.

Jin Guangyao draws back slightly, sucks a breath through his teeth. “That it certainly is.”

“Can you lift it?” 

“Return in a few days.”

7.

Lan Xichen plays _Cleansing_. As the wretched fog around the amulet bleeds away, they do not discuss how Jin Guangyao once twisted this song. 

They do not discuss the past much at all these days, lest it overhear them.

“Who is she, er-ge?” Jin Guangyao asks much later, curled together in bed. “Our powerful benefactor.” 

The waves lap at the pylons beneath their home.

“I’ve heard her called the Pirate King.”

8.

Captain Swann is pleased with the necklace. With payment, she leaves a sheaf of navigational charts bespelled against prying eyes. When those are unlocked, she leaves—

A qiankun pouch made from a mermaid’s purse—

A torn fishing net that, when whole, never loses its catch—

A pair of spectacles that see through deception—

9.

There is a man watching the shop.

10.

There is a _cultivator_ watching the shop.

He sits in a skiff moored further down the pier, making a good enough show of being a common fisherman - good enough that no one passing by gives him a second glance - but Jin Guangyao has seen him untangling and retangling his nets all day long without ever setting out to sea. 

Beneath the broad brim of his straw hat, his face is too unblemished by the sun to be honest. 

“Er-ge,” murmurs Jin Guangyao, laying his hand on Lan Xichen’s forearm. “Er-ge, don’t look now…” 

11.

Captain Swann’s junk, _The Empress_ , is moored on the far side of the bay, tucked among the more transient tall ships and cargo runners. Jin Guangyao has seen it come and go on occasion, attending to whatever fearsome business it is a pirate king occupies her time with; right now, though, its orange sails lie folded and tethered, and it bobs on the waves. The crew are about - some tend to chores, another few practice sword forms on the foredeck. He finds Tai Huang crouched over a weiqi board opposite a pair of twinned women who conspire together over their moves.

He is losing by Jin Guangyao’s estimation, but not badly. 

He chooses his moment, says, “I need to speak to your captain.”

Tai Huang startles. One of the women laughs; he snaps something at her - rude, presumably. Regaining his composure, he turns to Jin Guangyao, asks, “What about?” 

“A matter of mutual security.”

Tai Huang seems skeptical. “Alright,” he says anyway, and to the women, “Don’t touch the board.” 

Jin Guangyao follows him across the deck and to the captain’s cabin. “Majesty,” says Tai Huang, rapping on the door the same moment he shoves his head through it. “That artificer’s here.” 

“Send him in,” says Captain Swann. 

Jin Guangyao steps into the cabin - tidy and well-organized, like any good magistrate’s office. She greets him by his false name, and Jin Guangyao offers a polite bow in response. 

She seems amused by this. 

“I have encountered a problem,” says Jin Guangyao. “A matter from my past. And I have heard that if there is any true command in Singapore, it is yours.”

This woman is not a cultivator. She is not even, perhaps, a witch - but he has heard in the months since their first acquaintance of how she led an escape from the belly of a cursed ship and commanded a pirate armada through a maelstrom to rout the forces of the East India Trading Company. Her crew is loyal, and there is scarcely a soul in the port who would dream of crossing her. Her titles - Pirate Lord of Singapore, King of the Brethren Court - are justly earned. 

If anyone can keep them out of Nie Huaisang’s reach, it’s her - he only hopes he has won enough good will for her to do so.

“My father was a member of the gentry.” 

“As was mine,” she replies. “Go on.” 

“I rose to lead his house, to rule our corner of the world. But with power comes powerful enemies.”

“This I know.”

“I was struck down,” he says, touching his empty shoulder. “Deposed. My partner and I fled for our lives, began again here. But I believe my most powerful enemy has found us.”

He bends forward in a deep vow. “If you value the services I have rendered you, please, I beg your protection now.” 

Captain Swann allows him to stay like that for a long time, the clock behind her desk ticking and the waves lapping beneath their feet. Then, she says, “I know who you are, Jin Guangyao. Please. Stand.”

He straightens, heart suddenly beating rabbit-quick in his ears.

“You lied to me.”

Jin Guangyao swallows dryly. 

“An enemy once told me,” she continues, “That the corners of the earth are shrinking. The truly wild and undiscovered places grow smaller with every passing year, and the places a man or woman can go to disappear are a vanishing mirage. Did you really think that you’d gone so far afield that no one would ask after you?”

“I- I had hoped.” 

“I will not turn you over. I take my charge here in Singapore very seriously - this is a free port. There are no regulations save the price of my protection. But I have no desire to be mixed up in this matter. My crew have sworn their lives to me - I will not endanger them for some dueling magicians.”

12.

He returns home.

“What did she say?” asks Lan Xichen, meeting him at the door. Jin Guangyao falls into his arms, clenches his hand in the back of his shirt, shakes his head against his chest. Their life here was solid.

The house creaks against the ocean currents. 

Their life here rolls in the surf.

13.

Captain Swann leaves a shimmering dagger. Captain Swann leaves a lantern that casts no light. Captain Swann leaves hourglasses and cursed rings and strings of pearls, pays in gold and appreciates the work—

The shop is watched. 

Jin Guangyao frets about where they ought to go next - perhaps the new world? His time in Singapore has been productive; he thinks he could get by in any English-speaking colony. Is Nie Huaisang’s vengeance wide enough to span the whole Pacific ocean?

“Lan er-ge,” he whispers at night. “You’ve done nothing wrong but help me. You should go home.”

Xichen holds him closer. “My home is with you, a-Yao.”

14.

They are always watched. 

Jin Guangyao dares not stray far from the shop, pays a local girl to deliver groceries, works hard, loses weight. He draws his golden core into a reedy line powering protection arrays, falls asleep exhausted in Lan Xichen’s arms to the hum of his own power.

It is unsustainable.

There are more spies every day.

There is a man in the shop.

There are men in the shop.

There are men in the shop with faces from far away, without the equatorial freckles that mark the years here. The swords at their belts are wrong - too thick, too long, not the cutlasses of common sailors. Swords meant for flying.

Cultivators, to a man.

He still wears Hensheng wrapped about his waist. Jin Guangyao lays his hand on her pommel now, disguised as the buckle of his belt, counts—

The men have not made their move yet. They circle the cases, investigate the wares displayed. Oddities. Antiquities. He keeps his best finds in a locked cabinet in the back, gives Captain Swann the right of first refusal. That is not, apparently, enough of a price for his protection.

He should have run sooner.

He is always running out of time. 

The door to the shop opens—

15.

The door to the shop opens. Tai Huang steps in, looks around with his mismatched eyes. “Crowded today,” he observes.

Jin Guangyao grits his teeth. 

The door to the shop opens.

Captain Swann steps in. 

Jin Guangyao inhales sharply. The air seems to sizzle. 

Captain Swann gives Tai Huang a nod. Something shimmers in his hand - a knife, the same one Jin Guangyao repaired for him months ago, out of focus until it is suddenly, dangerously solid and sharp. The cultivator nearest to him stumbles forward.

The fight goes quickly. Lan Xichen, drawn by the noise, appears in the stairwell just as Captain Swann forces the last surviving cultivator to his knees. 

“Can you translate?” she asks, looking to Jin Guangyao. He nods, and she lifts the kneeling man’s chin with the tip of her jian. “I believe I’ve previously made myself clear to your master that Singapore is _mine_ ,” she says, Jin Guangyao repeating. 

“Tell him, If he continues to interfere, it won’t matter that Qinghe is landlocked. I will bring the sea to _him_.” 

The man makes no move as Jin Guangyao repeats, nor after.

“ _Tell him_.” 

The man nods. Captain Swann’s attention flicks to Tai Huang, who stands wiping blood from his dao. “Take him to the northern border. See to it my orders are conveyed to any other stragglers in the city. If you encounter any resistance, eliminate it.”

A smile spreads across Tai Huang’s scarred face. “As you wish, Majesty.” 

16.

_“I thought we weren’t getting involved.”_

_“We weren’t.”_

_“What changed your mind?”_

_“A good artificer is hard to come by.”_

17.

The waves lap against the pier. Jin Guangyao’s blood quiets in his ears. He sits still and calm beside Lan Xichen, and listens as he composes something new.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this fic since literally February 2020 and god damn after several false starts I've finally done it.
> 
> Thank you [Bee](https://twitter.com/asideoftrashpl1) for taking time to discuss 18th century Singaporean history with me! The version depicted in the Pirates of the Caribbean canon (and therefore re-depicted here) is not historically accurate in the slightest, but I'm grateful for your insight all the same.
> 
> Thank you [Ash](https://twitter.com/dage_mingjue) and [Zan](https://twitter.com/2himbo2furious) for coherency checking and proofreading! If you see any typos, please don't tell me unless we're friends - then roast me in Discord DMs.
> 
> Title from Coldplay's "The Fall of Man".
> 
> Anonymous comments are off because the Xiyao Troll can go eat rocks. If you need an AO3 invite, you can request one [here](https://twitter.com/weiyikes/status/1285737538083315714)!


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